The Winchesters in Amity Park
by plot-what-plot
Summary: An ex-blood junkie, a high-school dropout, a half-ghost teenager, a fallen angel, a techno-geek, the King of Hell, and a multi-billionaire... among many, many others. A series of oneshots and drabbles, which is why this is labeled "complete". Varied ratings, varied genres, sporadic updates.
1. Chapter 1

Because there aren't enough Danny Phantom/Supernatural crossovers, okay? There just aren't.

This is going to be a collection of oneshots, to be updated whenever a new idea pops into my head. Ratings will vary; I don't plan on hitting M any time soon, but if the occasion arises I will warn you. Genres will also vary. I will not be extending any of them into full-length stories, but you guys are free to continue one if you want to—just let me know, so I can read them! :D

First up, Sam and Dean meet Danny and Dani.

* * *

**The Not-So Ghost Boy**

Sam was the first to notice that a city in the Midwest, a run-of-the-mill and middle-of-nowhere town called Amity Park, had been experiencing some erratic weather that had even the best meteorologists on every weather channel baffled. First a drought that lasted so long it had the citizens verging on full-fledged panic, and now spontaneous electrical storms and sudden extreme fluctuations in temperature—fluctuations of almost fifty degrees in less than a day. Not to mention, only a week before, almost the e_ntire_ _town_ had been overrun by what the media was calling "an unexplained surge in plant life."

Most meteorologists, when asked about the situation in Amity Park, dismissed it all by saying that weather was a "constantly changing and unpredictable science," which of course Sam and Dean both knew to be complete and utter crap.

They knew—or at least, Sam realizes now, they _thought_ they knew—what the crazy weather in this backwater town actually meant.

Demonic omens.

Now, of course, Sam is beginning to question that.

Maybe it's because his brother is pointing a shotgun at a teenage—maybe ghost, maybe not, but definitely not demon—boy, or maybe because five seconds ago that teenage boy had been shooting _green lasers _out of his palms. Maybe it's because that teenage boy is wearing a skintight jumpsuit straight out of the eighties, or because there is a preteen ghost girl in a similar jumpsuit hiding behind him.

Or maybe it's because the kid just won't shut the hell up, and as far as Sam has ever noticed, ghosts don't tend to talk this much.

"Look, I don't want to hurt either of you," the kid insists, and he shifts slightly so that he is completely between the ghost girl and Dean now, his arms tensed at his sides. Dean tightens his grip on the shotgun and aims it at the center of the kid's chest, and Sam almost tells him to lower the gun. Almost. The kid turns his head a little to the side and addresses the girl behind him, "Danielle, get out of here."

Dean opens his mouth and manages to get out the word, "She's—" before the girl speaks up.

"I'm not going anywhere," she argues, and Dean closes his mouth with the most absurd expression on his face because Sam knows that that is exactly what had just been on the tip of his tongue. She adds with an annoyed huff, "And I told you to call me Dani."

"You really are stubborn, you know that?" the boy growls at her, still not taking his eyes off of the shotgun in front of him.

"Why, because I won't leave you alone to face these two goons on your own?" she shoots back, and Sam raises an eyebrow. These two ghosts are acting like… well, they're acting like humans, actually, almost like siblings. The girl tilts to the side, peeking around her protective friend to get a better look at Dean and asks, "So what are you guys, anyway? Undercover Jerks-in-White or just some losers my dad sent after us?"

"Dani, don't—" the boy begins to intervene, but Dean speaks up before the kid can get another word in.

"I should be asking you that same question," he tells them both, and the kids give him a look somewhere between confusion and disbelief.

"You… don't know what we are?" the boy asks. "What, was the flying around and shooting ecto-blasts not enough of a clue for you?"

Dean scowls and raises the shotgun a bit higher. "If I were you I wouldn't get cocky with a shotgun pointed at my chest," he warns, and Sam has to physically bite his tongue to stop himself from pointing out that actually, yes, Dean, you _would_ get cocky with a shotgun pointed at your chest. But that's beside the point, and Dean continues, "Now you seem pretty smart for a low-life creature of the night, so why don't you tell me what you are?"

The kid blinks and then cocks his head to the side as he looks Dean over, as if he's trying to debate what he should say.

Finally he opens his mouth and answers, "Danny Phantom."

"I'm sorry," Dean asks, "what?"

"My name is Danny Phantom," he explains. "And I'm not a _what,_ I'm a _who_."

"Okay, then, Danny Phantom," Dean responds with narrowed eyes. "If that's _who_ you are, then _what_ are you? Because you are definitely not human, kid."

The kid chews the inside of his cheek for a second, and in between looking curiously at Dean he shoots a glance at Sam, who is startled for a second by how bright and green the kid's eyes are.

Dean's right, this kid is definitely not human… so why does he act like he is?

Danny Phantom switches from biting the inside of his cheek to biting his lip, and then he asks, "You guys aren't with the Guys in White, are you?"

"No," Sam speaks up, and the kid looks right at him. "Never even heard of them."

The girl speaks up then, and she asks them out of the blue, "Does the name Vlad Masters mean anything to you?"

"Vlad Masters?" asks Sam, and he wracks his brain for a second before answering uncertainly, "Isn't that the mayor here?"

"So you guys aren't with the Guys in White, and you're not working for Plasmius," the kid sums up without answering his question, and Sam is about to ask who or what 'Plasmius' is, but the kid continues before he can. He takes a step forward and says, "So I don't see why we can't be—_AAH!_"

The kid goes flying backward—he just came a step or two closer to Dean than he should have, and his reward was a chest full of rock salt—and he slams back-first into his friend, Dani, and they both skid across the floor a few feet before coming to a stop. The kid has his hand over his chest, and he's wincing.

Alright, so if he _is_ a ghost, he sure is not a normal one. He didn't disappear on impact, anyway.

The not-so-ghost boy coughs, and he finishes his sentence with a little glare in Dean's direction.

"… friends."


	2. Chapter 2

Oh, one thing I think I forgot to mention: These oneshots are meant to be totally unconnected. If I change my mind and right a 'sequel' of sorts to one of them, I'll be sure to let you guys know. Otherwise, just assume that each oneshot is happening on its own. Enjoy!

* * *

**Jazz**

Sitting on the curb in front of her house, Jazz sent a halfhearted glare to her left at the two men she had literally just met a few hours ago, but she couldn't really find it in herself to be angry. Dean was opening the trunk to check over their inventory, the plethora of weapons that nearly rivaled her parents' weapons storage in their basement. He was clearly trying to act calm, but it was, to say the least, a pathetic attempt. Castiel, on the other hand, was keeping up the charade a bit more successfully than Dean was. But even though his face was decidedly stoic—and even though he was not slamming a door every chance he got and muttering obscenities under his breath like Dean was—it didn't take a genius to see that Cas was worried, too.

Sticking out of the back pocket of Dean's pants, the Fenton Boo-merang was steadily and quietly beeping, awaiting its chance to be thrown into the air and to lead them toward her brother. Hopefully toward _both_ of their brothers.

"Why Danny?" she asked, snaking her arms around her knees and hugging them to her chest.

Dean ignored her question, trying one last time to reach his brother—his name was Sam, evidently—on his cell phone, on the off chance that perhaps he had just missed the last hundred or so calls and was not, in fact, kidnapped by the King of Hell and in almost certain life-threatening danger.

Castiel, his hands in the pockets of his trench coat, first cast a worried look in Dean's direction and then looked to Jazz and answered, "Your brother Danny has… unique abilities. Abilities unlike that of any other human I'm aware of, anyway."

"Why would Crowley want him, though?" she asked. "What's so special about a half-ghost to someone like him?"

Dean cursed quietly; the call had, predictably, gone to voicemail once again.

Cas sighed, clearly dismayed, and he replied with a shake of his head, "I don't know."

"And what about Vlad?" she countered. "He's got ghost powers, too. If Crowley's so interested in half-ghosts, why take Danny and not him?"

Castiel's brow furrowed, and he narrowed his eyes. "Who—?"

"Did she just say 'Vlad'?" Dean jumped in, suddenly interested in what Jazz was saying. He was sending an incredulous look at her now. "I'm guessing there's not a whole lot of guys with that name around here, are there?"

Jazz raised an eyebrow at him, and then she silently shook her head. "Vlad Masters," she began, "is the mayor. He's a half-ghost, just like Danny is. So what I want to know is why Crowley went after _my_ little brother instead of Vlad—"

"Well, I've got news for you, kid," Dean interrupted. "That's why we came to this town in the first place. Vlad Masters went missing last night. The news hasn't gotten to the media yet because the police don't want anyone panicking about their mayor up and vanishing, but he's definitely gone. And you're telling me that _he's_ a half-ghost, too?"

Jazz sighed dejectedly a bit at the news. She had been hoping, however faintly, that they might be able to get some help from her brother's archenemy, perhaps by finding a common enemy in Crowley. Plasmius was difficult and conniving and more annoying than any of Danny's other enemies combined, but he was powerful.

_Well, there goes that,_ she thought bitterly, and in response to Deans question, she nodded.

"So, what do we do now?" she asked.

Dean, pulling the Fenton Boo-merang out of his back pocket, shot her a skeptical look. "_We_ aren't doing anything. Cas and I," he began, gesturing to himself and Castiel with the boomerang, "are gonna go after Crowley. _You_ are gonna stay right here."

"What?!" she shouted, and she immediately stood up, hands already planted on her hips.

"You heard me," he deadpanned.

His total disregard for her protests infuriated her, and if the last few hours hadn't been enough of a hint, Jazz was now fairly certain that she did not like Dean Winchester much at all. He turned away from her, probably with the intention of heading for the driver's seat of his car. She reached out and grabbed him by the upper arm, but he yanked it out of her grip and kept moving. "Cas," he asked, his voice suddenly quiet, "a little help?"

Castiel began moving toward her, and although she had no idea what he was planning to do or why he was reaching for her head, she had a feeling she wouldn't like it. She thought quickly and blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"I won't tell you how to use the boomerang!" she shouted.

Bingo.

Cas froze and drew his hand back, indecision clear in his expression. Dean turned around to face her.

"You need to find my brother to find Crowley, and you can't do that without the boomerang," she told them. She then lied, "And I'm the only one who knows how to use it."

"We'll figure it out."

"Ha!" she scoffed. "Good luck with that. Seriously. You'll waste _hours_ trying to figure that out."

Dean slowly approached her, and he took a deep breath before he locked eyes with her and said, "You are _not _coming with us."

"Then you're not using the boomerang," she responded, her voice even and confident, staring him right in the eye. He might have been some kind of expert hunter, and he might have been well over twice her age and over a head taller than her and exponentially stronger than her, but he still didn't scare her.

His fist clenched around the boomerang, and he pointed at her with it. "If you don't let us use this thing, then our chances of finding your brother go right down the crapper. You understand that, right?"

She narrowed her eyes at him, and her response came without hesitation: "So do our chances of finding _your_ brother," she insisted.

Dean's face fell. For the span of a split second, she could read in his face everything that _she_ was feeling, at the forefront of which was a deep-seated fear for her little brother, before the look was gone and he was glaring at her. He continued, "That doesn't change anything. You're what, seventeen?"

Jazz deigned not to correct him and say that she was actually _six_teen, and Dean continued without an answer anyway.

"I don't care if you think you have a right to come with us," he told her. "I don't care if you think you can help. I don't care if you think you can take on Crowley yourself, because—newsflash—you _can't!_ I've dealt with ghosts before, kid, and let me tell you, demons are much, _much _worse. Have you ever had to run away from a hellhound? Have you ever tried to fight a demon? Have you ever even _seen_ a demon?"

There was a lump rising in her throat, and she could feel her cheeks flushing red. She clenched her jaw and slowly shook her head.

"Then what the hell makes you think you can help us, huh? What makes you think you won't get possessed, or killed, or _both—_"

"Dean," Cas finally interjected, and Dean stopped short to send a look in the angel's direction.

He looked back at Jazz, and when he took a second to actually _look_ at her, it was as if his angry bravado had suddenly deflated. She stubbornly rubbed at her cheek to get rid of the tear that had fallen, but it was too late.

"I don't care," she declared, but her voice was frustratingly weak compared to his, and she continued to glare at the ground.

"I do," he retorted immediately. He then ran his hands through his hair, letting out an aggravated breath before he continued. "Look, I get it. You're worried about your brother. I get that a lot more than you think. It's just…" He trailed off, as if he was unsure whether or not to continue, but evidently he decided to go ahead say it. "I can't have your blood on my hands. I can't."

She looked up at him and insisted, "It won't be on your—"

"_Yes_, it will," he corrected her. "If I let you anywhere _near_ Crowley, you're gonna be in a whole lot more danger than you know how to deal with. Things are gonna get hairy, and I won't be able to stop Crowley from getting to you."

Jazz bit her lip. She then sat back down on the curb with a huff, and she stared across the street at nothing as she replied, "Danny's stuck with Crowley now. Is telling me how horrible he is supposed to make me feel any better?"

"I believe Dean's intention was to intimidate you, actually," Castiel spoke up, and Jazz looked up at him.

"Thanks, Cas," Dean muttered sarcastically. He tucked the boomerang into his back pocket and walked around Jazz so that he was standing in front of her, and then he crouched down to her eye level, forearms resting across his thighs. He opened his mouth, but Jazz beat him to the punch.

"I can't just leave my little brother out there," she insisted. "He needs me."

"He needs you to stay here," Dean argued. "You'll just make things worse. I can't get through all those demons if I'm too busy protecting you."

She searched his face for a moment, but although his comment hurt, she had to admit he had a point.

She sighed. "You're going to save your brother, right?"

He closed his mouth, furrowed his brow at her, and bit the inside of his cheek. Clearly he wasn't expecting that question. Nevertheless he responded, "Of course I am."

"Promise me you'll do the same for Danny."

"What?"

"I'm not staying behind unless you _promise_ me Danny will be safe," she told him.

"Jazz, I can't—"

"_Promise,_" she repeated. "Or it's no deal."

There were a few seconds in which he stayed there, staring back at her, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Then, with clear reluctance, he nodded.

"I promise."

"Good," she answered with a grin, and then she held her hand out expectantly. "The boomerang?"

He pulled the device out of his pocket and handed it to her. Jazz paused for a moment and, with a sheepish grin, held the boomerang up to her mouth and said, "Find Danny."

The light on the boomerang began to pulse and beep. The look on Dean's face was priceless, and even in her current mood, Jazz had to giggle. He glared at her with less venom than before, and he snatched the device out of her hands. "We'll waste 'hours' trying to figure it out, huh?" he droned, and she only offered a shrug in response.

"Just throw it," she instructed him. "And it moves pretty fast. You'll have to hurry to keep up with it."

"I am certain that won't be a problem," Castiel said, and Jazz wasn't entirely sure what he meant by that.

"Thanks," Dean told her with a nod, and he stood up to head for the driver's side of his car. Cas nodded in farewell to Jazz and then, out of nowhere, disappeared in a quiet flutter of what sounded to Jazz like feathers. The next instant she could see his silhouette in the passenger seat.

As Dean sat down in the driver's seat and tossed the boomerang into the air, shutting the door afterward and revving the engine, Jazz offered the two of them a small wave before she turned tail and bolted back into the house.

Luck, evidently, was on her side, she thought as she raced down the stairs into the lab and hooked up the computer, typing in a quick password. Lucky that her parents had invented tiny adhesive tracking devices (which they had planned to use to attach to ghosts and study their behaviors) that could be accessed from the lab computer.

Lucky that Dean hadn't noticed her planting one of those devices on the boomerang as she activated it.

She watched the boomerang sail over the streets of Amity Park as a little red blip on a map, and she could only assume that Dean's Impala was not far behind. And five minutes later, she was starting the Specter Speeder's engines.


End file.
